Carmine
by livelivelivelive
Summary: Santana works in The Carmine Club, a seedy snooker joint on the surface and an underground sultry burlesque nest for those in the know. She meets blonde bombshell Dani at work one night, and sparks fly.
1. Chapter 1

Santana Lopez hauled open the heavy door of The Carmine Club. She was late. To be precise she was exactly two minutes late. She hopped down the steep stairs as fast as she could and slid behind the black shiny counter at the bottom. The club was essentially a series of basement rooms, each with ancient and heavily stained burgundy carpet lining the floors, giving the place an overall dank feel. It smelled strongly of stale tobacco and old curtains, although Santana was used to it now. A boy glided out from the black beaded blind covering the doorway behind her.

"You're in trouble," he stated, smirking. "Late again."

"I'm two minutes late, Alabaster," she retorted.

"Late is late, Satan," Kurt continued, unperturbed by Santana's scathing tone. "Anyway, it isn't me who cares."

As if on cue, C.J. strolled out from the doorway behind them, flicking through envelopes with a rolled cigarette in one hand and a glass of something amber in the other.

"Late again Lopez?" She asked without looking up.

Santana mumbled an apology, but before C.J. could reply, the buzzer went. Kurt flicked a switch and the first customers of the day, a group of hipsters, sidled down the stairs and past the three of them into the first of the three adjoining rooms that made up the somewhat legendary Carmine Club.

Snooker clubs, Kurt had informed her on her first day, were big way back, but most had gone out of business. People had the internet and cable to keep them entertained these days. When Santana had seen the job advertised in the paper and was surprised to see that a 'snooker club' was actually a thing. She mostly checked it out because she was curious as to how it stayed in business. The Carmine Club's biggest attraction, she soon discovered, was it's owner, C.J.

C.J. had owned the club since the seventies, allegedly, but she looked thirty-five, despite the fact that she subsisted on a diet of cigarettes and tequila. Although the actual club was a musky and dark basement with low lights that flickered and hummed anytime anybody walked under them on the sagging floor, Carmine was always teeming with people from five until late. This was somewhat due to the fact that C.J. milled around constantly in her floor length flowy skirts, her long wavy blonde hair framing her stunning face as she flirted and joked with the dailys or enjoyed a glass of something strong with the old members like the most riveting and gorgeous host of the best party in town.

Another reason Carmine had managed to keep its head above water was because, if you pushed through the people laughing and chatting at the sticky black bar, and through the hipsters reciting trivia about the classic rock that oozed out of the tinny speakers in each corner of each room, and you dodged the old guys playing pool in the snooker rooms, you'd reach a door at the very far side of the last room.

Santana was headed there now. They'd only been open for a half hour but already there were thirty or so people playing pool. In the first room, where the bar was, and so consequently where most of the action was, there were only four tables, and all were already occupied. She pushed through the heavy red curtain into the next room which was much bigger. Twelve tables. The brightest of the three, although albeit still not very well illuminated, the second room was the one where actual serious games were played. She passed a few very intense ones, careful to tread lightly on the creaking floor. C.J. didn't have many rules but the ones she did have were resolutely followed. Don't be late and don't distract during a match.

Santana then swept back another red curtain into the third room. 'Lover's Cove' was what they called it. So dark it was almost impossible to see anything for a few seconds until your eyes adjusted, Lover's Cove was a bigger than it had to be for the two tables in the middle. There were beat up leather sofas lining each of the four walls all around the room, held together with duct tape. The stuttering lamps suspended over the tables served as the only light. The decor didn't exactly scream romance, but there was something present in the air there, something electric that made people disregard inhibition, and for that reason love seemed to be more potent and real, amplified to a level whereby couples, or even strangers sometimes, couldn't keep their hands off each other.

There were only two people there as Santana strode through, trying desperately to look straight ahead as she did. In her peripheral vision she glimpsed them though, a girl bent forwards over a pool table, trying to pot a ball, and a guy pressed up against her from the back. Santana stiffened, and quickened her pace, almost walking straight into the heavy black door. She pulled it open and ran down the steps of the narrow stairwell. The huge black door at the bottom of steps was similar, only it had a small rectangular window in it. She knocked on the door twice.

The window was slid across. "Password?"

"Let me in Chang," Santana snapped and Mike quickly slid the window closed and hauled open the door.

"Thanks," Santana muttered, brushing past him.

"What's up?" Mike asked, chuckling at her pout.

"Horny people," Santana huffed, and Mike laughed.

"You're in trouble so," he said, shutting the door behind them and dragging the heavy lever across to lock it. "This place is full of them."

Santana couldn't help but laugh at that as she walked languorously down a set of steps. The music here, the silky saxophone and the bass that drummed on the inside of your abdomen, the rose lighting, the air thick with the smell of perfume and sweet liquor, it was like stepping into a dream world. A sexy, sultry dream world.

The Carmine Club, a seedy snooker club and a burlesque haven, rolled into one. Santana leaned across the bar to convey a message to the tender from upstairs.

She murmured in his ear. The bartender was wearing a maroon waistcoat, open, with nothing underneath, and he was wiping the bar down. He nodded and smiled.

"Good to see you by the way San, haven't seen you down here in a while."

"Missed me Puck?" She drawled, pointedly ignoring the meaningful undertones beneath what he'd said.

Puck laughed and shook his head. Kurt sped over then, almost colliding with Santana.

"He's next," he breathed excitedly. He was positively hopping around the place.

"Who is?" Santana asked, amused. "Got a crush on a dancer?"

"Sounds familiar," Puck muttered under his breath, glancing at Santana, who continued to ignore him.

"Andy Boy is his name," Kurt gushed breathily, "and oh my he is just-"

"Wait wait," Santana said, cutting him off with a wave of her hand. "They've got male strippers now? What happened to this being a _high-end burlesque club_?" She said, quoting what Kurt had said when he explained Carmine to her on her first day.

"He's not a _stripper _obviously," Kurt retorted defensively, his pale cheeks tingeing with red. 'It's called _boylesque _and it's our new Tuesday night lineup."

"Boylesque?" Santana repeated, quirking an eyebrow at Puck, who just shrugged.

"Yes, now- oh my God, ohmyGod shut up he's on, shut up," Kurt whisper-shouted manically, clutching and squeezing Santana's arm.

"Get _off _me Lady Lips," she whispered furiously back. The lights dimmed then and the band rumbled, the warm sultry music becoming the focal point of the room. The chatter quieted.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," came the voice of Mercedes Jones, "How y'all doing tonight?"

Santana whipped around to face Kurt, whose eyebrows had all but disappeared into his hairline when a group of girls up at the front started hollering and wolf whistling.

"Are we gonna have a whole load of woo girls in every Tuesday night now? _No me gusta_," Santana whispered to Kurt.

"Probably,' he murmured back, 'But I mean, hot boys, so-"

"Ugh, no, there is nothing worse than woo girls in the club, even if it's a burlesque club. I prefer the handsy old men."

"You are terrible at being a lesbian."

Santana chuckled under her breath. Mercedes went on, speaking over the wooing.

"Glad to see you're excited ladies,' she said, smoothly dealing with the interruption. "I can tell you're going to love our first dancer. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for our very own private school guy!"

The girls screamed so loud Santana nearly fell off her stool. Mercedes just smiled.

"He'll help you with your homework," she continued, "Andy Boy!"

Ear-splitting, deafening hollers and screams and whistles and then the curtains parted, revealing a guy sitting in a big, luxurious leather armchair. He was wearing a pair of grey minishorts and a navy blazer with red piping on it, and a navy and red striped tie knotted loosely around his neck. The first thing he did was uncross his legs slowly and stand up, walking towards the crowd with smoldering eyes. Then he adjusted his tie, and without warning, ripped open the blazer to reveal his abs, showing them off with a deep body roll.

Kurt let out something that sounded like a squeak, and Santana's legs crossed seemingly of their own accord. There was something about his small elfin frame, and his pretty face, he was mesmerizing, even the girls were speechless for a second.

Then he tore off his little short shorts, and flexed his muscly thighs, and they were hysterical again. Santana swiftly got up to leave when she felt a familiar tingling feeling prick her fingertips and pool in her stomach. Kurt's limbs were knotted tightly together as she left, he was staring at the stage unblinking, and he had a slightly pained expression on his face.

She walked past Mike, who was staring slack-jawed at Andy Boy, looking like Santana had felt a few seconds before. She struggled to keep from bursting out laughing as she hauled open the heavy door without him so much as batting an eyelid. Looking at him reminded her of when she used to watch her mom's workout videos as a teenager.

She let the door bang closed behind her and she was back in the snooker club, the stairway's walls were yellow and damp and familiar. She breathed in deeply, the thick, cold air filling her lungs. She leant against the wall to cool down, the air in the downstairs was always so warm and heavy with something, like a suffocating sexual electricity. She hummed quietly with her eyes closed, letting her skin desensitize.

Maybe it was the music, or the lighting, or the naked boys and girls, but when she walked down to the underground section of Carmine, her body always reacted almost instantly, and it was only after she left that noticed how turned on and hazy she'd been. She'd find herself wondering how every show didn't end in an orgy, there was so much pent-up frustration swimming around.

Just as she was musing this, a girl walked through the heavy door, taking the ambiance of the club with her, seemingly. Owing to the state Santana was in, the only way to describe her was to say she was_ painfully beautiful_.

If the girl had noticed that Santana's mouth was hanging wide open, and that she was gaping openly as her eyes ran over her body, she certainly hid it well.

"Couldn't handle it either?" the girl asked, and her voice was so raspy and sexy that Santana felt warmth pool all over again in her abdomen, and seep down into her thighs.

"No," she managed, "I work here."

"You're a dancer?"the girl asked. Santana blushed furiously when she noticed the girl's eyes flicker approvingly over her body and wander back up to meet her own, definitely darker than before. The girl waited for a reply with a brazen smile tugging on the edges of her full lips. "I'm Dani, by the way."

Santana seriously considered pretending to be a dancer, just so she could see Dani's eyes rake over her another time, but when she opened her mouth to lie, something made the truth spill out instead.

"I work in the snooker club upstairs," she said, wincing internally at how un-sexy that sounded, considering the fact that she was talking to the most sensuous person she'd ever met. "Santana."

A comfortable silence fell over the two of them for a few seconds. Dani leaned back onto the wall behind her and sighed contentedly. "Wow," she mused after a minute, "this wall is really wet."

Santana just stared at her for a second before letting out a burst of laughter.

"It is!" Dani insisted, a smile sweetening her sultry features. "This wall is seriously wet!"

"You're," Santana began, subduing her laughter with some difficulty, "you're kind of adorable." She hadn't meant to say it out loud, and she promptly felt her cheeks heating up.

Dani just smiled again and looked at the ground. She was blushing too.

"Wouldyouliketogetadrinkwithme?" Santana mumbled, staring at the same spot on the floor that Dani was. Dani's eyes shot up to look at her, the confident quirk back in her lips.

"What was that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Santana let out a breathy laugh. "I said, would you, Dani,"

"Yes, eyes up here," she sang amusedly, and Santana dragged her eyes from the other girl's lips to meet her eyes.

"Would you like to go and get a drink with me?"

"I'd love to, but unfortunately I have a thing." She pulled herself up to a standing position and walked over towards Santana who pouted, not able to hide her disappointment.

"Is this goodbye?

"For now," she said and she placed a chaste kiss on the brunette's lips, slipping a card into her hand. "Meet me there tomorrow at six."

It all happened too quickly for Santana to react, she was frozen against the wall. She brought a hand up to touch her mouth.

"And cut those nails!" came a voice from the stairwell, and then Santana heard a door bang shut and she was gone.

* * *

_Let me know what you think!_

_xm_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey! Thanks so much for reviewing/following/favoriting, you are all wonderful, wonderful people. Also, sorry about the confusion, I'm not American, where I come from we call pool 'snooker'. It's a game played on a table where you pot colored balls with a pool cue to win. Black eight ball? Sound familiar? Hope so. Anyway I hope you enjoy the chapter._

* * *

Santana lay tangled in white sheets on her bed. It was almost quarter past four in the day, but she was only wearing a tank top and shorts. She was staring intently at the little card in her hand. She drummed the card against her palm. She flicked the edges. She frowned and pursed her lips.

"Sa-an?" came a voice from outside her room.

"Shit," Santana muttered under her breath. She swiftly tucked the card under her pillow.

"Santana?" Quinn asked quietly, and gently pushed the door of her room open, moving her head around to peek in. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, of course?"

"Why didn't you answer?" she frowned, sitting down beside Santana on the bed.

"Thought you'd know where to find me."

"Why aren't you up? Work starts in forty-five minutes, or has C.J. revoked the late rule?" her roommate asked. Her eyes flickered over her face, examining her. "What's up honey?"

Santana didn't answer for a minute.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Quinn said, getting up to leave.

"Fine, fine, don't beg," Santana sighed exasperatedly, closing her fingers around Quinn's wrist softly and pulling her back down onto the bed.

"Is this about Brittany?"

"Sort of, I mean it shouldn't be but-" Santana smiled despite herself, "I met a girl."

"You met a _what_? You met a-, KURT!"

"W-What?" came a muffled voice from the next room.

"GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW!"

Panicked scuffling and then, "Wha-, what'sgoingon?" Kurt demanded, almost slipping on the wooden floors as he slid into Santana's room. He rubbed his eyes furiously, holding a sheet around his waist awkwardly. "What? C'mon Quinn it's my day off."

"Sorry Kurt," Quinn said, her signature composure intact again as quickly as it had disintegrated. "Santana, would you mind telling Kurt what you met?"

"What you what?" Kurt mumbled blearily, shuffling over to sit beside the girls on the bed.

"What she _met_."

"This is so ridiculous," Santana huffed, crossing her arms over chest.

"Don't waste my damn time, Lopez," Kurt cautioned, scooting closer to her.

"Fine. I met a girl," Santana said very quietly, staring at the white comforter that was draped over knees, unable to stop the grin that quickly spread over her features.

"You-," Kurt started astoundingly, "so wait, does this mean you'll stop drinking tubs of ice cream every night for dinner and crying all over my boyfriend arm?"

Quinn let out a laugh, which she quickly stifled when Santana turned to glare at her. "Sorry," she said, "wow Kurt that was really insensitive."

Santana looked at Kurt, and sighed deeply for effect. "Kurt honey, do you not know where I am from?" she began, looking him straight in the eye. "Does the term_ Lima Heights Adjacent_ mean anything to you?"

"I think Satan's got a little cru-ush," Kurt sang, smiling sweetly at Santana's petulant scowl. Quinn bit her fist to keep from laughing.

"I swear Kurt," Santana said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I will rip that sheet from your hairless body and stuff it down your throat."

"Oh relax San," Quinn chuckled. "Tell us the sexy details."

"There aren't any," Santana sighed, "I mean, yet. She did tell me to cut my nails."

"Oh my-"

"What does that mean?" Kurt asked.

"Don't ask," Quinn said quickly, shaking her head, turning to wink at Santana.

"Cut your-, ohhh my, yes," Kurt snickered, catching on. "Well at least we know she wants to see you again."

"She kissed me," Santana offered, "we were talking for like five minutes and then she just gets up to leave, kisses me, and walks away."

"Wow," Quinn smirked. "I like the sound of this girl. What's her name?"

"Dani," Santana breathed, and then louder, "but _God_ Quinn, can't you keep it in your pants?"

"Yeah Quinn, this is Santana's girl, leave your lesbo-erotic fantasies out of it," Kurt chimed in, a smile tugging at his lips.

"What?" Quinn retorted, slightly too angrily, "Why do you guys persist on trying to convince me I'm gay? Is it because I live with the two of you? I mean it's not contagious, how many boyfriends do I have to bring home until you guys accept-"

"Quinny Quinn Quinn, so very defensive, so touchy," Kurt sang, cutting her off.

"Okay okay," Santana said, waving one hand in the air, "no offence Lady Lips and University Sapphic, but you're in here to talk about me so let's just bring it back down to the bottom line."

Santana pulled the white card out from under her pillow and flicked it at Kurt.

"I'm supposed to be meeting her there in," she glanced at the clock beside her bed, "like an hour and a half."

"She sounds cute," Kurt said seriously. "What's the problem?"

"I honestly don't know," Santana mumbled, staring at her hands. "I feel guilty. Or something."

"Guilty about what?" Quinn murmured. "You and Brittany have been over for a long time San, if you're ready to move on you have nothing to feel guilty about."

Santana studied her hands. She pulled at a loose thread on the sheet. "I still love her, " she whispered.

"We know that," Quinn said, taking her hand and squeezing it.

"So does Brittany," Kurt whispered, gently nudging her shoulder.

Kurt wrapped an arm around Santana's shoulder and rubbed her arm.

"God, why are you guys so nice to me," Santana sighed. "I literally verbally abuse you both on the daily."

Quinn snickered and lay down on her roommates legs. "'Cause we love you," she mumbled into the comforter. "You know you don't have to go if you don't want to."

"I really do want to," Santana admitted. "That's the guilt."

The three of them lay in silence for a few minutes, and Santana closed her eyes. Kurt leaned on her shoulder. She was just thinking about how much easier it would be to stay in bed than to go and try and talk to a scary beautiful girl when Kurt's head snapped up.

"Jeez Porcelain, you damn near gave me whiplash," Santana grumbled, rubbing her neck.

"Today is _my _day off," Kurt said, scrutinizing her. "You should not be laying in bed, you should be working."

Quinn sat up and pushed a hand through her hair. She turned her attention to Kurt.

"This means that you rang_ C.J._, of all of the terrifying bosses in the world, to call in sick, to go and see this girl. " Kurt stood up, taking his sheet-skirt with him. "I'm sorry Quinn, but she's going. Come on, get up." He pulled Santana up by the arm and shuffled over to the bathroom, dragging her behind him. "You have an hour, go clean up."

He shut the bathroom door on her weak protests, cutting off her grumbling. "Don't give me that look Fabray, you know that this is progress. It's for her own good."

* * *

Santana stepped out of a cab and glanced at the little card for the fiftieth time that minute. This was definitely the right address, and Santana supposed it wasn't too implausible for Dani to ask her to pick her up at a department store, although most people opted for the more common, "I'll pick you up at your place" thing.

She stood outside for a few minutes, stamping on the ground and rubbing her hands together furiously before she gave in and ducked inside, the steaming warmth wrapping around her immediately. She glanced back but she couldn't see Dani anywhere so she decided to wander in deeper into the store. The part of the building she'd walked into seemingly housed the cosmetics department. The place was packed, uncomfortably so, but given that Christmas was just over a month away that was hardly surprising. Santana allowed herself to be moved along with the milling crowd until she stood a few meters from the MAC counter. She stopped walking. The familiar panic sweats that haunted her underboob in times of apprehension threatened to make an appearance.

Through the throngs of people, she could see her, with her blonde hair twisted up on the top of her head. She was doing someone's make up, but Santana couldn't see the person's face. She stared at Dani, who was biting her lip in concentration. Biting her lip. Santana's brain was quickly emptying of all coherent thought, she was so engrossed by the little crease in Dani's forehead, the way her nose wrinkled in focus. Santana stepped a little closer, apparently not in control of her own body. If Dani were to look up, she'd see her standing less than ten feet away, gazing dazedly at her, drooling probably.

Santana stared still, only long enough to see Dani moisten her bottom lip with her tongue, and to notice how fixated her amazing eyes were on her customer. Santana's heart hammered against her ribs and sent waves of shivers into her stomach when she thought of what it would feel like to have Dani cast those eyes over her, examine her, gaze at her. She then promptly spun on her heel and began to walk away from the blonde, slowly at first, but the rhythmic snap of her heels on the marble floors spurred her on.

She was frightened too, as well as feeling guilty about seeing Dani, although she'd never admit that to Kurt and Quinn. The last time she'd felt anything like this she quickly became completely exposed, she was outed in front of her entire school, and had to endure most of the Cheerios tip-toeing around her, either ignoring her completely out of fear she'd come onto them, or being overly 'accepting', handling her with kid gloves.

Looking back she wouldn't have changed anything, it was totally worth it to be with Brittany, and she also knew that that was Lima, and New York was certainly different, but still, she knew that if she were to get into something with Dani, she'd have to face new challenges, scary challenges. She didn't know if she could deal with it should they break up, for example. What had happened between her and Brittany had been out of either of their control, but her heart still broke. And a broken heart was not something she was something she was itching to experience again. She decided that Dani wasn't worth the risk, and pulled open the door of the department store to leave.

"Santana!" she heard a familiar husky voice behind her. "Santana," Dani breathed, catching up with her, holding open the door so she could walk through. "I'm so sorry, work ran on, thanks so much for waiting."

"I-, uhm, it's no problem," Santana smiled, her previous doubts dissipating as Dani's eyes raked over her, even more slowly, and more tantalizingly, than she had at Carmine.

"You look-," Dani began, her gaze still flickering over Santana's form. She shook her head and smiled slowly, letting a whoosh of air out from between her teeth. "Really nice." Her voice had dropped another octave from its usual low hum.

"So do you," Santana said, struggling to keep her own voice even now that her heart was back, throbbing uncomfortably somewhere in her throat. "All black?" she asked, not bothering to try and mask her appreciatory scan of the blonde.

Dani beamed sweetly, and Santana wondered how she could go from being rip-my-clothes-off-with-your-teeth sexy and sensual to let's-bake-cookies-together adorable in less than a second. She found her utterly fascinating.

"Uhm it's for work, but I wear black quite a bit," she glanced down at her outfit. "There's something about it, I guess. Everything looks better in black."

"Everything looks better on you." The words fell out of Santana's mouth before she could stop them. She winced, but Dani just giggled.

"Do you use that line on all the girls? The hundreds of girls, I'm assuming?" she prodded, beginning to walk down the street. She slipped her warm hand into Santana's as she did.

"There aren't that many girls, believe me."

"I'm surprised, you're completely gorgeous."

Santana struggled to keep her cool at that, her tummy suddenly fluttering so much it made her breathing shaky. "Why, do you have many lines that you use on all the girls? Or all the boys?"

"Subtle, wow," Dani laughed, turning to raise her eyebrows at her date. "No, it's only girls, but yes, I do have quite a collection of lines stored up, I'm not gonna lie."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm."

"Can I hear one?"

Dani clicked her tongue. "You'll have to buy me a drink first."

"Oh okay," Santana said. "So, can I buy you a drink?"

Dani grinned. "That sounds nice."

* * *

_Let me know what you think! _


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